Just Another Night In Vegas
by ThreeWholeWords
Summary: Hung-over? Check. Naked? Check. Married to somebody you don't know? Check. Just another night in Las Vegas. Genderswap!Quinn and Rachel.
1. Adonis

A groan left Rachel's plump lips as she stirred from her sleep; the heavy throbbing in her head and the sun rays peeking through the gap in the curtains almost too much to take in her current state.

Rachel slowly sat up, her head in her hands as she tried to remember last night's events, with no idea where she was. A small gasp left her when she felt her warm, naked back press against the cold headboard behind her. She frowned for a moment, glancing over the messy room before she found herself dragging the covers off her naked body and bolting to the bathroom, to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

This certainly wasn't the first time she'd vomited due to a hangover, but she didn't need the vile reminder of the taste of vomit in her mouth, which made her whine.

"_Never_ drinking again," Rachel mumbled, her voice hoarse and thick with sleep as she shifted to sit against the cold floor, brushing strands of her away from her face, when she finally felt something cold against her forehead. "What... The fuck?" She muttered, and let her left hand drop in front of her face before she froze. A ring? In place of her usual, elegant engagement ring.

"Surely I didn't... This... This is a joke, right? Santana must have my real ring..." Rachel reasoned with herself, chewing her lower lip as she carefully stood up, flexing her fingers as her face held the most perplexed expression. The ring was simple, yet there was something beautiful about it; she was sure she'd chosen this ring herself. After all, it _did _have a gold stars on it.

After a few moments, of ultimately deciding to keep the ring, Rachel carefully pushed herself from the floor, positive that she didn't need to throw up again. It was then that she finally registered that _ache_. Unlike her headache though, this ache was beautiful, and one that she'd only ever dreamt of having.

"Oh God... I didn't," Rachel muttered, before catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her jaw dropped, with her hand coming up to brush her fingers over the dark, tingling marks over her smooth skin. She'd never been marked before, and in all honesty, she liked it. She liked the idea of somebody being proud enough to claim her. But then, after a moment, she didn't know what to think. She was _engaged, _even though she didn't exactly know how she felt about her fiancé; after all, she'd only known the man a month, and it was her fathers insistence that she marry the man.

If she thought about it more, she'd _never_ woken up, with such a delicious ache between her thighs.

Rachel was utterly conflicted; when she woke, she hadn't thought to glance to her side to see if anybody was beside her, not did she have a chance to with the turning in her stomach, so with a deep breath, the girl tip-toed back towards the door.

The sight she was met with made her mouth water; there, in the bed she woke up in, laid a complete Adonis - or at least, that was what she assumed from the back of him. The messy, dirty-blonde hair; the valley of his spine, the small dimples at the small of his back, the twitching muscles as he shifted a little the scratch marks down his seemingly soft skin were incredibly sexy, and most importantly, that _ass_, which was to _die_ for; it all made her head spin with excitement.

Quietly, Rachel padded over to the bed, slowly sliding back onto the mattress. She knew she shouldn't. If anything, as soon as she saw the beautiful blonde man in that bed, she should have hastily pulled on her clothes and left, but she didn't.

The blonde man beside her was handsome, as far as she could tell. She'd only gotten a view of the side of his face, as she leaned over, and now, she had no doubt at all, that she'd been fucked in every possible way, by this man.

"Brody is probably going to kill me," Rachel sighed, even though internally, she was sure those marks on her neck would go un-noticed. Brody was marrying to simply get his hands on his fortune and Rachel knew it.

Rachel sat silently for a while, tracing over the simple patterns on the hotel bed sheets, listening to the quiet snore of the blonde man beside her with a small smile. It was the quiet, familiar buzzing of her phone pulled her away from her thoughts.

Quickly, Rachel crawled out of the bed, rummaging through the clothes on the floor for her cell-phone before finally, she found the device, letting go of a relieved sigh as she saw Santana's caller ID flash up onto her screen.

With a swipe of her thumb, she accepted the call, holding the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Well, if it isn't Rachel Berry... Did you have a good night?"

Rachel groaned; even through the bad quality of her speakers, Santana sounded like she was screaming down her ear. "Shh... Quit being _so_ loud, Santana. Do you know where I am?"

"My guess is, probably beneath that blonde you were flirting with all night," Santana quipped. Rachel could tell she was teasing her; she knew Santana wouldn't assume that she'd jumped into bed with a handsome blonde stranger on her bachelorette party.

Rachel mustered up her best fake laugh, rolling her eyes as she let go of a heavy sigh. "Yeah... About that..."

"You _didn't_...?" Santana gasped.

"I don't know," Rachel whispered, taking her lip between her teeth. "I mean, I can't remember a thing. But I'm not in my hotel room, I woke up naked, next to this guy and my engagement ring has been replaced by a different ring... Let's just say I _think_ I might have..."

"Well, it's safe to say that I did _not _expect that," Santana replied, raising her eyebrows. "How do you feel?"

"Besides the _awful_ hangover? I actually feel kind of... Satisfied. I feel... Like I haven't felt like this for a long time."

"Then I'm kind of happy for you, Berry. You know, if that's even your surname any more."

"You're _hilarious_," Rachel rolled her eyes, "Anyway, how did things go with you last night? I think I remember you hooking up with a beautiful blonde?"

"I did. And well... I don't kiss and tell," Santana answered, the shyness evident in her voice.

"Since when?" Rachel asked in disbelief, rolling her eyes.

"Since now. Anyway, I'll meet up with you a little later, okay? Call me if you need anything," Santana offered.

"I will. I think I need to talk to this guy before I leave. See if he can tell me anything," Rachel said, turning to look over at the man.

"Sounds smart, Berry. I'll see you later," Santana replied, and with that, the girl hung up.

"Smart... Right," Rachel whispered to herself, reaching for her purse and carefully tucking her phone inside, before she made her way back over to the bed.

She didn't know how long she'd spent sitting up, simply watching the stranger sleep, but when he rolled over, and cracked open such perfect golden eyes, she was sure her breath caught.

"Morning..."

Even that hoarse, lazy voice was perfect, and Rachel found her mouth opening and closing with no words coming out, until finally she managed to stutter out, "H-hi..."

"Are you okay? Did you sleep well?" he asked.

With the raspy tone to his voice, and the way he could barely open his eyes, Rachel knew the boy was definitely more hung-over than she was. Offering him a warm smile, the brunette reached over to gently brush the messy blonde hair back, carefully chewing her lip.

"I slept fine, how about you, handsome?"

Handsome? Rachel had no clue where that came from, nor did she know where her affectionate gestures came from either, but she didn't stop, especially when she heard the adorable little purr leave his soft lips.

"Fine. I just have the _worst_ hangover," The blonde grumbled, letting his head fall down to rest in Rachel's lap.

It all felt so natural. Rachel didn't have any clue what was going on. She felt some form of connection to this man, and she didn't know why.

"Do you remember _anything_ about last night?" She asked.

"Not exactly. You'll probably hate me for this, but I can't quite remember your name..."

Rachel giggled, shaking her head in amusement, while her thumb delicately stroked over the shell of the blonde's ear. "It's okay. If I'm honest, I don't remember yours either. I'm Rachel."

"Such a beautiful name. It definitely fits. I'm Quinton. Quinton Fabray," he announced, bringing a hand up to rub his tired eyes.

Rachel blushed; her tanned cheeks tingeing light pink as she took her plump lower lip between her teeth. "You're a charmer, Quinton... I like it."

The way that smile lit up Quinton's face made Rachel melt, and in that moment, she completely forgot about her engagement.

"So what do you remember about last night?" Quinton asked.

"Not a lot. But when I woke up, I saw that you had scratches on your back, and I have h-hickeys, so it's safe to say that I think you and I had intercourse. I... I also have a different ring on my finger..."

"I know we definitely had sex," Quinton nodded, looking up to those mocha brown eyes with a soft breath. "But that's all I remember. If you woke up with a ring, then well... We're in Vegas. I think, we _could_ have gotten married. Maybe there's something to tell us in our pockets, or your purse?" he suggested.

"Possibly," Rachel nodded in understanding, before finally, she began to think through everything. "But I... I'm _engaged._ I'm supposed to be getting married in a week..."

Quinton had no idea why, but he felt himself deflate at the brunette's confession. Although he couldn't remember what had happened completely, he felt a connection with the brunette, one that he was sure he'd never had with anybody else.

"Oh... Well... M-maybe we didn't actually get married. Maybe we just slept together... I know that isn't exactly ideal, because you're in a relationship, but who knows?"

Rachel nodded slowly. She was sure that Brody would most definitely kill her; not literally, of course. He was the one funding her current, and most anticipated Broadway production, and if she got in the way of his inheritance, he would definitely change his mind, and that would kill Rachel's chances of playing Fanny Brice. The only thing that constantly played on Rachel's mind though, was that she wasn't in love with Brody. Of course, she was attracted to him, but there was no connection though. They were both using each other, and Rachel wanted to make her fathers proud.

She hated the fact that she wouldn't be able to get to know Quinton more than she already did. In fact, she hated everything right now. She wished she had the memory of what had happened the night before, but instead, all she had to remember the experience, was the beautiful ache and the hickeys; both of which would eventually fade over time.

"Well, w-we should check," Rachel breathed, though she _really_ didn't want to move.

"Yeah..."

Silently, the two slid out of bed, and Rachel couldn't help it as her mouth watered when she took in Quinton's entire naked form. To say he was big, would be an understatement. In fact, nicknaming him Adonis would be an understatement. Quinton Fabray was by far the most beautiful man Rachel had ever seen.

The leering didn't go unnoticed though, and Quinton flashed Rachel the cheekiest smile, shooting a wink at the girl as he made his way over to pick up his jeans, searching through his pockets for anything that could tell them about their night together.

Rachel did the same; emptying her purse onto the bed and spreading out the contents, arranging anything she recognised, and pushing aside the things she didn't.

"What do you have?" Rachel asked.

"I have... A receipt for a ring," Quinton answered, holding up the small piece of paper. "And... Pictures. From one of those photo booths."

The smile on his face when he looked at those pictures made Rachel internally swoon. He had the most handsome smile, and she didn't know how she was going to go forever without seeing it again.

It was when she found her copy of the photos that her face lit up as well. If anything, they looked like more of a couple than her and Brody ever had. The smiles, the silly faces, that look, and that kiss.

"What do you have?" Quinton asked, tilting his head.

"I have my copy of those photos. Then, I have..." Rachel trailed off as she unfolded a piece of paper, chewing her lip as she brushed her fingers over the document. "A State of Nevada marriage certificate, and a picture of the happy couple."

Even though she wasn't married to Brody yet, she was more than sure that this wedding photo, would show more affection than any with Brody.

"So..."

"We're married," Rachel interjected, nodding her head slowly.

"I... I guess I'll have to talk to my lawyer about getting a quick annulment," Quinton sighed, slowly rubbing his forehead.

Rachel was sure she felt her heart shatter at the look on that boy's face. He looked so disappointed, and if she was honest, she was too.

"I'm sorry, Quinton," Rachel murmured timidly.

"What do you have to be sorry for? We were drunk, it... It didn't mean anything, right?"

"No, it's not that. I mean, I think I feel something with you. It's just... The timing," Rachel sighed in defeat.

"Yeah. The timing..." Quinton nodded slowly.

"No, I mean it. You are by far, one of the most beautiful people I've ever met. And I _really_ wish, that I could remember last night, because everything tells me, that last night was one of the best I've ever had."

"You know one thing I _do_ remember about yesterday?" Quinton asked. "You threw your engagement ring away, after telling me that marrying him, was the _last_ thing that you wanted to do."

Rachel froze, toying with the ring on her finger. She had no idea how she'd explain that one to Brody. In fact, she was sure that he wouldn't even notice, as long as she had a ring on that finger. She couldn't believe she'd told a completely stranger her deepest, darkest secret, either.

"Quinton, I... I _have_ to marry him. Besides, why do you care? You're just a stranger I met yesterday. I thought it didn't mean anything to you."

"Who said I cared?" Quinton sighed.

It was more than obvious that the blonde cared, but at this point, he was simply to stubborn to admit it.

Rachel sighed. She didn't want to fight. She'd been awake for hours now, and the dull ache in her head had barely faded away.

"Nobody," she muttered, before reaching for her dress, carefully pulling it over her aching body.

"Look, I'll get an annulment. I'll do it quickly and quietly, so it won't interfere with your marriage with whatever his name is."

Rachel only nodded, brushing through her dishevelled hair with her brush, before she pushed everything back into her purse. "Okay."

Quinton sighed. His memories from the previous night were slowly coming back to him, and in every small flashback, all he saw was smiles. He'd never remembered himself happier, and he was frustrated that the girl was marrying somebody that she didn't want to. All of those thoughts quickly faded though. His head whipped around to look at the clock.

"Shit..."

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked curiously.

"I should have been at the airport an hour ago. I need to fly out for a job interview tomorrow," Quinton muttered, hastily pulling on his clothes.

"Oh... Well, you better get going," Rachel said, reluctantly.

"Y-yeah. Uh... I guess I'll... Never see you again," Quinton shrugged.

Rachel sighed again, slumping in defeat.

"I guess you won't," She mumbled. "Good luck with your interview," she breathed.

"Thank you," Quinton replied. "Congratulations on the wedding, or... Whatever."

Rachel was sure as she walked out of that hotel room, that Quinton Fabray would now forever be the one that got away. It was only at this point that she hated her desire to be on top; to please everybody. Those images in her purse said it all. Quinton had made her smile like nobody before and now, she'd never have that again, or so she thought.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think of this one. I know the first chapter isn't much to go on, but there will be another update soon. Suggestions are always welcome. :)**


	2. Prince Charming

Rachel swung an arm out, blindly reaching for the alarm. The sound was ringing through her ears, and after only ten seconds of hearing the sound, she was carelessly pressing buttons until finally, she silenced the device, rolling onto her back to a small huff.

She'd arrived home from Las Vegas late last night - to an empty house, of course - and when Brody did arrive home, after a weekend of partying, he barely acknowledged her. It was no surprise when all she got from him, was a few drunken slurs, before he passed out next to her.

Rachel had to remind herself, why she had chosen this man, over the man she'd married only three days ago; the man, who seemed to be the prince charming she'd always dreamed of. She was doing this to make her fathers proud, and to finally achieve her dream of playing Fanny Brice. She had convinced herself that eventually she could learn to love Brody. He wasn't always so bad, and there had been an attraction there.

After taking a moment to think to herself, she let go of a yawn and carefully rolled out of bed. She could still feel a small ache from between her legs, and her mind instantly went back to Quinton. Since she'd left him, she constantly had small flashbacks of their night together, each memory showing the most erotic experience of her life.

"How is it possible to miss a stranger?" Rachel sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Since she'd walked out of that hotel room, she couldn't get Quinton out of her mind. Her clothes still held a hint of his intoxicating scent, and the darker shades of skin over her neck still excited her.

"Snap out of it, Rachel. He's _gone_, you're getting _married_," she mumbled to herself, tying up her robe as she made her way through to the bathroom.

Today was finally the day of her first rehearsal, now that they had a new director. She didn't know why Brody had been the one to interview him, after all, Brody didn't know a thing about Funny Girl, good directors, or how to put together a Broadway show. She simply relied on him, for his funds.

Deciding to put a little faith in the man she was going to marry, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, and turned on the hot water, slowly peeling off her clothes, until she could step under the hot spray of water; engulfed in a cloud of steam as she relaxed under the stream.

She went through her usual morning routine; singing her three favourite songs in the shower as she cleansed herself, before she slid out and dried off her body, followed by her extensive moisturising routine - just about the only thing she had in common with her future husband.

Finally, once she was ready, dressed in her favourite winter attire, she made sure that the erotic marks over her neck were covered with a sufficient amount of make-up, before she left; leaving her hung-over fiancé groaning and grumbling in bed, while she went off to collect her breakfast from her usual café.

Rachel tried her best to push thoughts of the blonde to the back of her mind, focusing on the script in front of her as she sipped on her coffee; the smell of steaming coffee invading her scenes. She knew the script from the movie almost by heart, but she simply wanted to be brilliant. She wanted to impress this new director, and of course the audience on every night she performed.

"So are you still going to ignore me? Like you did since you came back from _lover boy's_ hotel room?" Santana asked, sipping on her own coffee.

"It's not like you even cared. You were too busy with your new girlfriend," Rachel responded.

Santana blushed; enough that Rachel could tell, despite the Latina's ethnicity.

"How is Brittany by the way?" the brunette asked.

"Good," Santana replied, hiding behind her coffee cup as she took a sip. "She doesn't actually live too far from the city, so I can visit her."

"Good for you. I may have been in my own little world, the last few days, but I have noticed that she tends to put a smile on your face."

Santana merely nodded in response; the two of them staying silent for some time as Rachel read through her script and the two women sipped on their coffee.

"So, did you tell Brody?" the Latina asked curiously.

"No, and I'm not going to," Rachel said, finally looking up from her page at Santana. "We all know what Brody's like. I don't really think I need to. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?"

Santana's perfectly manicured brows rose and she tilted her head, before Rachel continued.

"Quinton told me he's going to take care of it. He's going to get a quick, and quiet annulment, and then it won't count, I can still marry him."

"But it's _so_ obvious that you two aren't right for one another, and this just proves it."

"No, Santana. We might not be, like you and Brittany, who despite being together, for only three days now, are overly affectionate, but we'll work. Like I said, what happens in Vegas _stays_ in Vegas."

"Okay, _okay_. No need to bite my head off," Santana retorted, shaking her head. "I won't say a thing."

Rachel gave Santana a thankful smile, finishing off her coffee, before she looked up at the clock. She gave Santana a long goodbye hug, and started walking to the theatre, looking over the script as much as she possibly could, causing her to collide with several people on her short walk from the café to the theatre.

When she arrived, she greeted her cast, most of which she'd already met through chemistry readings and settled in the front row of the audience, smoothing out the script in her lap before she heard the familiar sound of the theatre door creaking open backstage.

Every cast member held their breath in anticipation, waiting to see who their new director would be. Everybody wanted the production to be perfect, and with the hope that they had the perfect cast, they simply needed a _perfect_ director. It was when Rachel heard the sound of applause resonating from the cast on the stage, that the brunette let go of a relieved sigh, more than happy that they seemed to have a good director, if the reaction from her cast mates was anything to go by.

The brunette rose to her feet, making her way up onto the stage to meet her mystery director, offering to polite smiles for those men and women who separated to let the petite girl though. When she'd finally made her way to the front of the crowd, Rachel froze.

There in front of her, stood the very same man she'd woken up to two mornings ago. With the perfect dirty-blonde hair, the golden eyes and a light layer of stubble that almost made her go weak in the knees.

"It's great to meet all of you," Quinton announced, glancing over the room. "I'm Quinton Fabr-"

The man cut himself off. There, in the middle of the entire cast, stood the girl he'd married. His _wife_. He was sure he'd never see the girl again, but sure enough, there she stood, ten feet away from him.

"F-Fabray," he corrected, shaking his head of all thoughts. He had to at least appear professional. "I... I hope we can all work well together, and that this production comes out the best way possible."

Rachel was sure her mouth had gone dry, looking over at her cast mates as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was almost positive that it was written all over her face, and when the group broke; everybody wandering off to retrieve their scripts, Rachel almost stormed over to the blonde.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She whispered.

"Working," Quinton answered, with a roll of his eyes.

"You're a _director_? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I _did_. You obviously don't remember though, since I told you before we were married." Quinton muttered.

Rachel shushed him, bringing her finger up to his impossibly soft lips. "Keep it down."

"Oh... Yeah, I forgot. I'm your dirty little secret, God forbid anybody finds out."

Rachel sighed, deflating as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can we at least be civil? I have nothing against you, and I actually quite like you. I don't want to argue like-"

"A bitter divorced couple?" Quinton interjected. "Because _you_ are going to marry somebody you _clearly_ don't love?"

"You don't know a thing about me," Rachel growled.

"You're right, I don't. I'm not all too sure why I married you."

Rachel surely shouldn't have been so affected by those words, after all, she'd convinced herself that it was all nothing but a drunken mistake, even if she had a connection to this man. But the blonde's words made the girl falter, and Quinton saw it; he immediately felt guilty for his words, but before he could even think about apologising, Rachel had walked away.

"Rachel..." Quinton called after her with a small frown, only to be met with a raised hand from the diva, who had already started on reading her own lines.

Quinton pinched the bridge of his nose, letting go of a heavy sigh. For the past two days, he hadn't been able to get Rachel out of his mind, and now, he'd upset her, after only a few minutes of talking to her - this job was not going to be easy.

He decided to distract himself by gathering a portion of the cast to the stage, to rehearse, trying his best throughout his time in the theatre, to get the girl alone, and attempt to apologise, but Rachel merely walked away whenever her got close.

"You are being _ridiculous_," Quinton grumbled, when finally, it was just the two of them left inside the theatre.

"Is that yet another reason, why you don't know the reason for marrying me?" Rachel raised a brow, turning around with her arms over her chest.

"I'm _trying_ to apologise to you, but you're too stubborn to let me," Quinton growled.

"You hurt my feelings," Rachel spat. "What do you expect?"

"Why do you _care_ what I say? You're engaged to somebody else."

"Then why do you care, if I hear your apology or not?"

Quinton was left speechless, while Rachel simply walked out, and back home to Brody. He thought over that question again, and again. He had no clue why he cared, if he thought about it. He'd constantly tried to reassure himself that it was simply a crush, or rather nothing more than an attraction; that there was no way he could develop feelings for somebody, over the space of a few hours.

"Just a crush," Quinton whispered to himself, holding the photos of both him and Rachel, that he hadn't bothered to throw away, before those photos were hidden away, back in his wallet, while the blonde made his way back through the city to his apartment.

* * *

"You're _kidding_?" Santana gasped dramatically.

"He's being a complete asshole too, I don't get it. I didn't do anything wrong," Rachel whined, taking the glass of wine that Brittany offered her. "Thank you."

"You mean, besides marrying him?" Santana asked. "I mean, of course, you were both drunk out of your mind, but obviously there was something there. He's probably just bitter that he'd not going to get a chance."

"Okay, I am _so _lost, could you catch me up?" Came Brittany's voice, tucking herself into Santana's side.

Santana offered up a soft smile, before nodding. "Thursday night, Rachel and I went to Vegas, for a long weekend, for her bachelorette party, just me and her," Santana explained. "On Friday, after a day of shopping, and a nice dinner, when I met you, Rachel also met this Quinton guy, who she happened to marry, and sleep with, despite the fact that she's already engaged."

Brittany raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips in thought as she quietly listened to Santana.

"It's complicated, babe. I'll explain the engagement another time," Santana said, and Brittany simply nodded."Anyway, the next morning, when they woke up, both hung-over, they had a little talk, and they parted ways, after agreeing that blondie was going to get an annulment," Santana said. "They thought they'd never see each other again, but it turns out, that Quinton is her new director."

"Oh, well that has to be awkward," Brittany nodded, offering Rachel a sympathetic smile. "But don't you think it's best, if you're going to be spending a lot of time with him, to be civil? Like, I know it's awkward with him and everything, but it'll be easier if you get along, rather than fighting like-"

"An old married couple," Santana added, with a teasing smirk.

"God, you're already finishing each other's sentences," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Well, we _are_ married, technically speaking," Santana replied.

"Excuse me?" Rachel responded, as her jaw dropped.

"Like you and lover-boy, when we were in Vegas, Brittany and I kind of... Got married," Santana explained.

"And you thought to only tell me this _now_?" Rachel asked, in disbelief.

"Well, you _were _kinda having a crisis of your own," Brittany smiled.

"Well, that's no excuse. Are you both happy about this? I mean, I know it's soon, but you both seem perfectly happy together."

"I think it was _meant_ to happen," Brittany answered for the both of them. "I mean, I wouldn't have said yes, if it wasn't. So, we decided today, that I'm going to move out here."

Rachel was speechless. She was in awe of the trust the two of them had in each other, after only knowing each other, for just three days. It was then that she thought about Quinton. It should have all been this simple with him, yet it was completely complicated.

"Well, I think I'll leave the two of you to it. I have to get home to Qui- _Brody._ I have to get home to Brody," Rachel breathed, shaking her head.

The sympathetic smiles of both women didn't go unnoticed as she let herself out. It was ridiculously obvious how conflicted she was, but she knew she'd have to both choose Brody, and swallow her pride, so that she could at least get along with Quinton, though as the night went on, Rachel couldn't be sure why she'd have to choose Brody. He barely even looked at her, so it was no surprise, that even after she'd washed her make-up off, he didn't spot the large hickeys. She simply put it down to him being busy, or stressed.

It was the next morning, during her walk to the theatre, after her usual morning coffee with Santana, that Rachel decided to take the bull by the horns, and try to be civil with Quinton. She'd made a point, to arrive at the theatre, before anybody else, so she could simply talk to the blonde alone.

"Quinton, can I talk to you?" Rachel asked, her voice small and almost timid as she stepped up to the man.

"Yes, Miss Berry?" Quinton replied, coolly.

"I wanted to apologise. A-about yesterday," she murmured, offering out her hand politely. "I was thinking maybe I could buy you a drink, as an apology."

Quinton paused for a moment, staring down at Rachel's hand, before he met those deep, mocha orbs that he'd stared into on his wedding night. I appreciate it, but no thank you."

Rachel's brows furrowed in confusion. She'd swallowed her pride, and apologised, despite the fact that he was the one, who'd hurt her feelings, and now, her apology hadn't even been accepted, and when Quinton walked away, leaving Rachel alone on the stage, while the rest of her cast mates filed in, she couldn't help but wonder, what had happened, to her Prince Charming.

**A/N: Wow, thank you for all of the feed back, from my first chapter. I do appreciate it a lot. I'll always try to update as quickly as possible, and your follows/favourites are always appreciated. Reviews too.**


	3. Breathless

Rachel took her lip between her teeth, running her fingertips over the glossy sheet on the table in front of her. She was only mildly phased by the smudged fingerprints that she'd left behind, only because she was focusing on the man in the picture. Quinton Fabray; her new director, a man she drunkenly married, a stranger, and now, the man she couldn't get out of her head.

She'd been sat staring at this photo; their 'wedding' photo, and she was still convinced that she'd never been happier, than she had in that picture. Over the past four days, Rachel found herself remembering every detail of her long weekend in Las Vegas; the shots, the kiss, the ridiculously sweet vows that Quinton made up on the spot, and then the constant sound of the bedsprings squeaking while she was intimate with the blonde.

Now, even if he'd made her feel like an idiot the previous morning, she still couldn't help herself. She was ridiculously attracted to the man, and Santana was sure that - for this reason - Rachel had simply convinced herself that Quinton felt bad for the way he'd acted and spoken, but Rachel was _positive_ that he did. Every time she'd turned around the previous day, she'd met that gaze; those beautiful golden eyes, and she swore, she saw guilt.

When she heard a loud, single clap echoing through the theatre, she snapped her head up as Quinton asked for the cast to gather up on the stage. With a deep breath, she carefully took the photo and placed it back carefully into her purse, and did as she was told, slowly making her way up to the stage.

"Tomorrow, I want a rehearsal of the Ziegfeld's wedding sequence, in costume," Quinton announced. "Which means today, I need those of you who haven't already been fitted, to make your way to wardrobe."

Rachel let go of a small sigh. She was hoping that she'd simply get to rehearse I'm The Greatest Star for the rest of the day.

When the group disbanded; some heading backstage towards the costume department, while others made their way off stage, to rehearse themselves, Quinton reached over and gently grabbed Rachel's wrist.

The two of them were sure they felt the spark; just that simple touch, made their skin tingle, though Quinton reluctantly ignored the feeling.

"I owe you an apology," Quinton murmured. "I mean, I understand, if you don't want to accept it. I _was_ a jerk to you, and I shouldn't have declined your offer, or said what I did on Monday, I was just... A little frustrated, and I know that's not an excu-."

Rachel mentally gave herself a pat on the back, as she held her finger up to Quinton's lips, offering the blonde a small smile. "I accept your apology, Quinton. And I apologise too, for anything that may have caused you offence, but I think we should leave it in the past, and get on, and maintain a professional relationship. Do you agree?"

Quinton couldn't help but deflate a little. He didn't want to be professional. He wanted a chance, to be with the woman who'd given him the best weekend of his life, though with a forced smile, he nodded slowly. "I agree, now, go and get fitted, Miss Brice."

With a delicate smile, Rachel nodded. Gently patting Quinton's strong chest, she carefully made her way passed the boy. Internally, she sighed. It felt wrong, to merely utter the word professional. Not with the way she was thinking about Quinton constantly.

* * *

When Rachel stepped out onto the stage, not half an hour later, dressed in what had to be simply the most beautiful costume she'd ever tried on. It was an old, altered wedding dress, after all, and if the brunette was honest with herself, she liked this, more than she liked the one she'd had picked for her, for the approaching wedding.

The thoughts about her dress quickly faded as she came to find Quinton speaking with Brody. Her heart almost stopped, almost panicking that maybe Quinton would give something away. It was then that she decided that distracting at least one of them would put an end to her paranoia.

Stepping forward in front of both boys, she flashed the two of them a nervous smile, which only grew more timid as both gazes examined her.

"That's not your dress for _our_ wedding, is it?" Brody asked, and the disapproving tone was evident in his voice.

Rachel shook her head. "It's my costume..."

"Thank _God_, because it's hideous. You definitely need to show off more skin," Brody mumbled.

Usually, Rachel would recoil, think that Brody was right, even if she did love the dress, but under Quinton's gaze, she felt beautiful. The way those gorgeous golden eyes took in the sight of her, almost made the brunette swoon.

Even if Quinton was looking at Rachel, like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, behind those eyes, he was _pissed_. Brody's words had infuriated him to no end, and it took everything in him, not to punch the boy.

"Wow..." Quinton whispered, before his cheeks tinged bright pink. "Th-the costume department definitely went all out," he added, even though he was sure both brunette's knew exactly what he meant. "S-sorry, I'll leave you to it," Quinton murmured, catching Rachel's gaze as he walked away.

That simple look made Rachel feel special; more special than Brody ever made her feel, and with a soft smile, she watched Quinton leave, before she turned her attention to Brody. "So, what is it?" she asked as politely as possible.

"I just came to let you know that tonight, I'm not going to be home. I'm working late, and I have to go to Boston for a meeting tomorrow," Brody explained.

"Okay," Rachel nodded firmly, mustering up the best smile she could. "Have a safe flight," she murmured.

"Have a good night," Brody replied.

When Brody leaned in, she simply expected her usual kiss on the cheek. When she felt hands turning her head though, she was more than surprised. Feeling a tongue push into he mouth, with no sense of rhythm made her grimace, and when her gaze flickered to the side, she found Quinton.

It was that that made her pull away, putting on a fake smile as she patted Brody's chest. "Easy, tiger... See you later," Rachel offered.

* * *

She'd found it bearable to have her breakfast at home, without Brody there, pestering her for sex.

"Stop! Stop, _please_ stop?"

Rachel groaned in frustration; this was the third time they'd been stopped, and at the very same part. She assumed that Quinton was simply acting out again; that he was jealous about that kiss she was forced to endure yesterday, and simply giving her false criticism to annoy her.

"Rachel, Robert, you can improve. A lot. I've told you this already. Even if this is 'just rehearsal', I want you to both use all of that talent." Part of him was jealous, about the kiss he'd seen the previous day, but right now, this was nothing but his professional opinion.

"Okay, watch... I'll play Nick... You need to put _everything_ you have into your performance. We want you all to exceed the expectations. I know you all have it in you," Quinton said.

With that, he took his place on stage opposite Rachel, taking a deep breath, while he gathered himself, putting himself into character.

"Fanny, please don't look sad..."Quinton said his line.

"You walk back into my life, change everything and walk right out again. How should I look? Happy?" Rachel said, as Fanny.

"I'll be back in your life again, darling. Very soon."

"Yeah, like last time?"

"Not a bit like last time,"

Rachel was pleasantly impressed that Quinton seemed to know the script from memory, as well as his skills as an actor.

"So, what's different?" she read.

"I love you," Quinton breathed.

"Do you mean that?"

Quinton nodded, as scripted.

"You're not just trying to be polite?"

Quinton never hesitated as he cupped Rachel's cheek, leaning in for the most passionate kiss. In this moment, he was sure he'd broken character. Of course, nobody else would have known, except for maybe Rachel, but even if they did know, he couldn't help himself as he kissed Rachel with everything he had.

Once Rachel's lips were free, the girl had to catch her breath, since Quinton had rendered her breathless. She fought to read her next line.

"Y-You do mean it. What d'ya know," She mumbled, never taking her eyes off the blonde.

"It's been the most beautiful week of my whole life," Quinton whispered.

Then he leaned, and Rachel didn't waste a second cupping the nape of Quinton's warm neck as he kissed him back, sucking lazily on the blonde's lower lip.

This time, it was Rachel who pulled back, tucking her lower lip beneath her top lip as her cheeks flushed at the applause they received.

"A-and that's how you should do it, R-Robert... Don't hold back," Quinton mumbled as he took a step back. "I think that's it for today. You have a day off tomorrow, and obviously Miss Berry is... Getting married at the weekend, so we'll pick it up on Monday."

* * *

Rachel sighed as she walked through the hall of her home. After an hour with Santana and Brittany, telling them about her day, she'd finally arrived home, and to an empty, peaceful house. She smiled, making her way upstairs and throwing herself into the comfort of her mattress.

Rachel was only led there for ten minutes; enjoying the feeling of the soft mattress beneath her, when she felt the throbbing between her thighs.

The way Quinton had kissed her, had been constantly playing on her mind, and since it had happened, Rachel had found herself growing aroused. All she'd had with Brody, were numerous attempts on Brody's part, to get Rachel into bed. Of course, Rachel had only given in once or twice, but never in her life - besides her Friday night in Vegas with a certain blonde - had she been as aroused, than she had, by simply thinking about a kiss with Quinton Fabray.

It hadn't even been a minute, since Rachel had registered the intense throbbing in her core, and already she couldn't stand it. There wasn't even a second thought, before she quickly pulled off her dress, and unclasped her strapless bra.

Her nipples were already stiffened painfully hard, and with the cold air washing over her body, she couldn't stop the whimper that tumbled from her full lips.

With one hand coming up to tweak an erect nipple, Rachel slid her other hand down her flat stomach, and into her boy-shorts. A delicate fingertip slid over the soft mound, through the thin landing strip before she found her fingers sliding through her soaking folds. She whimpered, bucking her hips up into her own hand. In her mind though; with her eyes squeezed closed, that finger, was Quinton's.

When she grazed her engorged clit with her fingertip, her jaw went slack. Her fingers alternated between each nipple, with harsh, delicious pinches, as she continued to brush her fingers over the sensitive nub.

It didn't take long for her to find a perfect rhythm with her hips as she slid two fingers deep inside herself; her thumb firmly teasing her clit as she pumped her digits in rapidly, rolling her hips up, with the softest moan.

It was when she felt that tightening in the pit of her stomach; the most delicious feeling, as she imagined Quinton sliding in and out of her, like he had in Vegas, that she curled her fingers up into that magic spot.

"Q-Quinton..." She breathed, and it came out so naturally. She'd never before called out anybody's name while she masturbated, but it felt so right to say his name as she reached her climax.

Her chest rose and fell as she relaxed back into the mattress, feeling the heat between her legs only grow as a she came around her fingers, in the most perfect orgasm.

It took her some time, to let her breathing return to normal, and as she relaxed, naked in her bed, she merely hoped that tonight would be one of those nights, that Brody was stuck in another state, and didn't come home until late the next day.

**A/N: Apologies for the delay in updating, and a different kind of chapter. Thank you for any reviews/follows/favourites. Hopefully I can post a few chapters pretty soon. :)**


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